


Never Trust a Kraber

by AmBunMustRun



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: AFAB Bloodhound (Apex Legends), Bloodhound has a crush, Fluff, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Octane has a crush too, Revenant is the ultimate WINGMAN ;D, Shyness, mentions of potential drug use, rating may change later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26221555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmBunMustRun/pseuds/AmBunMustRun
Summary: When Octane gets his leg blasted off by a Kraber, Revenant volunteers Bloodhound to take care of him.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Octane | Octavio Silva
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

Bloodhound watched Octane closely from their seat near his personal area. Each Legend had their own area with one big common area. Every match before the ship would announce that it was time to drop down into the arena and assign the groups on the large screens above, the male had a sort of ritual to get himself ready. From what the tracker had gathered, it had been a way to get his mind ready for the rapid fire pace of the Game, as if he wasn’t almost _always_ ready for that anyways. He would crouch on his computer chair and just twist and turn all about, glove clad fingers dancing across his controller as three monitors displayed three very different things, laughter bubbling from his throat as he would rapidly swap his attention from monitor to monitor. How the adrenaline junkie could flip his attention so quickly, Bloodhound would never know, but it was admirable in a way.

And often, it proved to work out on the battlefield rather well.

The alarm went off loud and proud overhead and the screens all about the dropship lit up, randomly matching up the Legends with one another. The tracker’s heart hammered loudly as they saw themself paired up with Octane and Revenant. It wasn’t often that they were paired up with their object of affection, and when they were, they found themself almost always distracted. With Revenant as part of their squad, he would make sure to snap Bloodhound out of it. He could never settle for subpar performance from _anyone_ , himself or anyone else. As the three of them got aboard the shifting panel that was lowering and preparing them for their drop, they glanced over at the bouncing, jogging Octane beside them.

“Eeny meeny miny… How ‘bout there?” the adrenaline junkie beamed, gesturing towards Fragment West. Lots of good loot, plenty of weapons and ammo, and most definitely a good area to score some quick and easy kills to start off the round.

Revenant and Bloodhound both voiced their agreement. The synthetic nightmare was always more than happy to get some easy kills and the technological tracker was more than capable of finding the enemies to kill. The three waited until the perfect moment before they all took the plunge, synchronized as they dove in towards their target. As predicted, they were most definitely not alone, multiple other squads diving the same way.

Octane spun about in the air, snapping pictures of himself and the others. "These are gonna go right up after the match! ¡Esto va a ser genial!"

"Save the excitement for the battlefield, skinsuit," Revenant scoffed, shifting to break from the group. "I'm going to the small building. Stay close or else the enemies are gonna kill you before I can."

"We will bathe in the blood and slatra," Bloodhound assured. As they each landed in nearby buildings and quickly grabbed guns and bullets alike, they could each hear enemies all around. Bloodhound scanned the area, their teammates seeing immediately where the danger was all around.

There was the unmistakable sound of an Alternator popping lead, the roaring silence of the shadows Revenant shot forth, then his laughter through the comms as one by one, a full squad fell to him. He had scored all three kills on his own.

With a stim jammed into his thigh and a precisely tossed jump pad, Octane lept over another squad, dropping a frag grenade on them. As they fell like flies from the explosion, he landed on the ground. He spotted someone and, with a sprint and slide, a stray enemy who had wandered too far from their own squad had made the unfortunate acquaintance of a Mastiff shot to the face. Four kills for the Octrain!

Without a weapon to start, Bloodhound had almost fallen right away, but all it took was a few missed shots for them to gain the upper hand. Tomahawk in hand, they had taken out two members of one squad, grabbed one of their guns for themself, and finished off the last member of that squad. Of course, as they had been tending to their wounds, they had been found by another squad. Two magazines used up on their Flatline, the second squad fell. As the speakers littered about the arena announced Bloodhound as the new Kill Leader, they were close to blacking out from the pain.

"You're the Kill Leader. Pretty good for a skinsuit," hummed Revenant as they regrouped, handing the tracker a medkit and some shield cells to patch themself up. "Too bad I'll be taking that from you later."

Bloodhound rolled their eyes behind their mask as they patched up their wounds once more. Predictable. "You can try, but I feel that the lead will remain mine."

"Oh ho ho! Are we gonna make bets? Cause I am _so_ down to make bets!" Octane exclaimed, jogging in place excitedly.

"Bet wisely," Revenant chuckled, reloading his guns and checking them over by turning them to and fro in his hand. "I was _made_ for killing."

Once again rolling their eyes, Bloodhound checked their map. "It seems we are already inside the circle," they hummed. The squad wouldn’t have to waste time running blindly all about the place, at least. They pointed at a nearby marked survey beacon. "If we can get here, I can find out where the next circle is."

Octane grabbed onto their padded shoulder and leaned over them, glancing down at the map. His warmth felt as though it was seeping through the heavy layers of their clothes, heating their flesh with ease. There was no way, all things considered, but it most certainly felt that way. The close proximity was rather nice, too, but they would never openly admit to that. "Oooor we could totally take a guess and go fight more people!" he chirped. Before the tracker could even retort with how reckless of an idea that was, Octane immediately pointed just off center of where the current circle seemed to be. "I bet it's gonna be right here!"

Revenant leaned over and scoffed. "You know what? Sure. Let's give it a try. But if we end up getting caught in the ring, it's all on you."

Octane seemed to grin behind his mask, bouncing and using Bloodhound's shoulder as leverage, nearly toppling them over to the side from the sudden weight. "Hell yeah! Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

Without much further discussion despite how Bloodhound wanted to argue with the plan at hand, the squad started to make their way towards where the adrenaline junkie predicted the final ring to be. They took out another two squads along the way along with a couple of stragglers who likely had been on their way to deliver their own teammates’ banners to a recovery beacon.

Surprisingly, Octane had taken Kill Leader from Bloodhound, leading with nine kills. Most of the ones they took out along the way had been a product of him just running into combat recklessly, after all. Revenant didn't seem to be outwardly upset about it, but they could both tell that the simulacrum was definitely pouting a bit. Especially seeing as to how he had the least amount of kills out of the three of them.

Funny, wasn't it?

After all, out of all the Legends, he _lived_ to kill everyone and anyone who got in his way.

As they neared Skyhook, having taken a quick couple of detours for a few replicators and a care package they found along the way, Bloodhound started to unknowingly keep watch on Octane's backside. The way his back arched as he did his goofy little knee high run, his steel feet hitting the earth beneath them and kicking up dirt, the way his cheeks squeezed taut and relaxed with every flex…

"Careful, he might actually start to notice if you keep it up," Revenant teased quietly, just low enough that Octane couldn’t have possibly heard him.

Bloodhound stumbled a little as they realized what exactly they had been doing, eyes wide behind their goggles. And worse yet, how they had been caught doing it by Revenant of all people. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

Now it was the synthetic's turn to roll his eyes, his glowing irises very visibly doing so. "You're not exactly subtle, skinsuit. Though I will admit. Didn't think he was your type."

" _Will you keep it down?_ " the tracker hissed lowly under their breath, face beginning to burn.

"It's not like the cameras around here can hear me. Besides, my mouth doesn't exactly move, you know. Nobody can _read my lips_ , either."

"Yes, well, _he_ can still hear you!"

Revenant chuckled lowly. "Right, right." He waved a dismissive hand. "I'm guessing you haven't made a move yet?"

"Obviously _not_ ," scowled Bloodhound. They were grateful now more than ever that they hid their face almost constantly. Revenant would likely torment them over their embarrassment for the rest of time if he could see any actual hint of it on their face. Plus, he would actually be able to see their face.

"Let me guess. Not sure what he's into? I could find out for you."

"As much as your… _offer_ tempts me, I'm afraid he's not much into the idea of a relationship, no matter the person."

"What gave you that impression?"

"He was interviewed last week on the matter. I saw him say it himself."

"Ever thought it might be because he's holding out for someone special?"

Bloodhound could feel the headache coming on from rolling their eyes so much this game. They would need to take a few pills when they got back later, that much they could already tell. "I doubt it."

Not another word was spoken about it, though Revenant was occasionally looking between the pair whenever neither of them was paying attention to him. Five squads were left, including themselves, and they all needed to focus. They could see teams fighting one another close by. With a good eye and careful timing, Revenant took out each and every one of them, effectively third partying them both. With five more kills under his belt and two enemy squads left, he needed only two more kills to surpass Octane and take the claim of Kill Leader for himself. Kill Leader was finally within his grasp at long last.

That was when they were struck from behind.

Octane went down in one, loud, _powerful_ shot, one steel prosthetic suddenly gone from his body, skidding away about fifteen or so feet ahead of them.. A Kraber to the calf just as he had lifted it in a run had absolutely blasted it off regardless of how it had been clipped into place. Any other gun would have just put a _dent_ in it. But a Kraber? There was no doubt that the clips were all damaged and ruined now, too.

The way the adrenaline junkie hit the ground looked painful, his arm taking the worst of the damage, scraping harshly along the pavement before he stilled a few feet away. Blood had left a skid mark in its wake. He had not been expecting such an abrupt stop to his movement, so he was definitely a bit dazed as a result, weakly trying to push himself up from the ground.

Bloodhound quickly grabbed the male under his arm and lifted him. “Move!” they exclaimed, picking up the pace. They made sure to grab the ruined prosthetic on the way, having Octane hold onto it while they shifted his weight along their shoulder.

“I’ll cover you. Get him back up,” scowled Revenant, turning and sniping a shot with fast reaction time. Being a synth really gave him a bit of an advantage when it came to aiming and shooting before the enemy could process what was happening. He was effectively keeping the enemy squad’s attention on him while Bloodhound managed to slide into a nearby building and rested Octane up against the wall.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow…” hissed the male, dropping his prosthetic and shakily touching his exposed arm flesh. Oh, that looked bad. Very bad. Dirt, rocks, and concrete had littered the damaged area. He would need a trained medic to properly mend that. And with the state of his leg, he would likely be told to stay home for the next few games. If they were named the Champions of this one, he could afford to take the time off, even if all the Legends knew that he didn’t know the _meaning_ of a day off. “Hijo de puta, esto duele como el infierno…”

“I can do a quick patch job, but after this round, you must see a medic,” Bloodhound told him, pulling out a medkit syringe and holding Octane’s arm out. Injecting him, they narrowed their eyes as he hissed loudly, throwing his head back. They shifted then, pulling their undershirt out a bit and tearing the hem before holding up a long strip of cloth. Carefully, the tracker wrapped his arm with the cloth, feeling their heart pound. Blood was already soaking through. As they picked up the damaged prosthetic, Octane placed his hand over their own.

“It’s busted,” the male sighed in agitation. “I can’t fight on one leg as much as I want to. Maldita sea…”

“What if we lured the enemy to the slatra?”

“Huh?”

“I can hide you just out of sight. Attract the enemy with my sonar. They’ll think it is only Revenant and me. You supply the suppressing fire. We take them out. We win.”

Octane was quiet for a moment before nodding and lifting his arms to be lifted. “Help me up.”

The tracker did a masterful job hiding Octane. Just as Revenant came sliding in, three more kills under his belt and now proclaimed to be the newest Kill Leader, Octane had been out of sight and therefore out of mind. The synth didn’t need to ask. No deathbox around meant that the male was alive. And that was more than perfectly fine with him. They had a good chance at winning with a trick up their sleeve like this.

“Took their Kraber. I was getting shot at from the last squad on the way in here. Lure them in and we can finish this quick.”

Nodding, Bloodhound activated their sonar, seeing the familiar silhouettes of Pathfinder and Mirage both. “Be wary of a third,” they stated simply. The duo were lured inside, almost immediately overpowering both Bloodhound and Revenant with decoys and well timed grapples. But with Octane hiding out nearby, the full squad managed to get Mirage down. All that was left was Pathfinder.

A close range shot from Revenant’s new toy, the Kraber, awarded them the win.

Bloodhound ran over and grabbed Octane, lifting him carefully into a bridal style carry. “Because of you, we have slatra.”

“That. Was. _Amazing_!” the male boasted, throwing his arms up in delight before quickly wrapping them back around Bloodhound’s shoulders. “Grab my leg. I’ll have my prosthetics guy fix it up.”

“You’ll be out of the Games a few days if not longer,” Revenant hummed. He then had a bit of a teasing tone to his voice. “Though you’re not one to sit still. Maybe you could have this one here take care of you and keep you from being _too_ reckless.”

If the tracker could kill Revenant, they most definitely would have in that moment.

“Sure!” Octane grinned, shifting in their hold some. “I had a spare bed. Not that I need someone to take care of me. Just makes it easier.” He then looked at the masked hunter with excitement. “I think I can handle a couple days while my leg gets fixed. I have a tournament coming up, anyways in one of my games! Gives me plenty of time to practice and get ready for it!” He bounced a little. “Maybe I’ll get to see you without a mask~!”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” snorted Bloodhound with a small smile of their own. “Just worry about getting rested up. I can take care of your leg for you.”Revenant chuckled lowly to himself, whispering into his comm, “ _You owe me one, skinsuit_.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octane POV in case anyone gets confused! I'll likely swap between the two a lot as a fair warning for the future!

Octane could not, for the life of him, sit still for longer than twenty minutes.

He had been taken straight to a medic right after they had been publicly declared the Champions  to have his wounds tended to . They had fought with him to keep him in one place while they examined him,  trying to make sure that there was no damage to his stump and arm while he seemed content to try and see how many different positions he could sit on the cot. It took a sedative to slow him down long enough to be looked at.  It didn’t even put him under like it did to normal people, just…  _ slowed _ him down. Overall, his stump was fine, just needed new clips for his prosthetic  and a bit of rest since the flesh under the metal was definitely bruised from the force of the Kraber shot , and his arm was thoroughly cleaned up and rebandaged properly. They even told him to not stim until his wound was healed up, worried that the increased blood flow that would result from a stim would soak through the bandages and make it take longer to heal.

When the adrenaline junkie went to complain about it, saying that he didn't want to be slow, Bloodhound scoffed  from their spot by the door . "You're not going to be moving much as it is. And the faster you heal, the faster you can get back to it," they stated simply. "So, if you want to return to the Games faster, then simply do not stim until you recover."

There was definitely a bit of tension in the air at that. But, after a moment of thought, Octane could only let out a low groan and reluctantly agreed.  Ultimately, they were right. The faster he healed, the faster he could get back to the flow of things. It just was going to suck massively in the short term. After all, he usually lived as though every day could easily be his last. So actually making himself commit to a plan of rest, even if only for at the very least a few days, was a big deal to him.

"You'll be with me all the while, si?"

"As much as I can, yes," nodded Bloodhound. "I will make sure that you are staying rested. As long as there are no issues, you will be rid of me before you know it."

Octane glanced at them  with a hint of worry behind his goggles . Did Bloodhound think that they were a burden or something? Or was it something else? They had been acting strangely throughout a good chunk of the match, Revenant, too.  He had no idea what could have possibly been going on, just that there had been  _ something _ happening.

"You can stay as long as you like. I don't mind," he decided to tell them then. "I'm not exactly the best judge of when I'm recovered or not. At least according to Che." He chuckled weakly to himself then. Oh yeah. He knew that he had fucked that one up. He hoped that there was a day that she could forgive him. Or at least start talking to him again outside of snipping at him and being curt with him between matches. He didn't really have friends outside of her, he had found. And if Bloodhound could be a friend, he needed to put in the work. "You can even bring your bird."

They looked at Octane with a slight tilt to their head. “Artur does as he pleases. But I will let him know,” they hummed softly before turning their head to look out the room.

This was going to be harder than the male thought to himself.

“You’re cleared to go, now,” the medic hummed as she started to clean up her station. “I’d ask about a wheelchair, but-.” Octane was already up and out of the cot, hopping a bit on his one leg and placing his weight against the wall to balance himself. The medic didn’t even have to look, giving a very heavy sigh, shaking her head disapprovingly. “Well, you seem to be able to move around without one…” The male could hear her mutter under her breath how she now understood why the other medics looked so exhausted all of a sudden when it came to the adrenaline junkie coming in to be looked at.

Not that it bothered Octane.

He was used to their judgement by now. He had been used to it for the past few years. From outsiders, doctors, his own family, and even his own fans from time to time.

He was used to it.

But when he felt his arm grabbed, he jumped a little, looking up.

“Wrap your arm around my shoulders,” Bloodhound spoke softly, lowering themself a bit to help him in the task. Octane did as he was told, and sure enough, the tracker helped him stand properly. When their hand curled against his hip, he felt his heart hammer hard in his chest. It made him feel…  _ warm _ . “Let me hold your weight.”

“Puedo sostener mi propio peso,” Octane murmured to himself a little defensively, but ultimately, he did as was asked of him, allowing Bloodhound to hold his weight up. It felt odd, not being able to stand on his own, but at the same time, given who was helping him stand… It was… nice. In a way.

Did Octane have a crush on the mysterious hunter? Maybe. It was definitely a possibility. But he did well to hide it. After all, they would likely reject him - they were opposites. Octane? Reckless and full of wrecks. Headstrong and fast paced. Far too eager to throw himself into the middle of a firefight. But Bloodhound? They were careful, calculated. They made plans and did whatever it took to execute them. They were smart about every fight.

While the hunter could definitely keep up with the daredevil…

It didn’t mean that they were a match made in Heaven.

Though a part of him desperately wanted to hold onto the hope that  _ maybe _ there was a chance.

“You live in an apartment, correct?”

“Huh?” Pulled from his thoughts, Octane turned his head to look at them. They were focused on carrying the male out, so their gaze didn’t meet his own. Looking ahead as well, the male hummed quietly to himself. “Si. I have a two bedroom apartment. It has a small kitchen and one bathroom, too.”

Bloodhound nodded slightly. “Noted.” They shifted his weight some. “Are you certain I can stay with you? I don’t live too far from you.”

“I don’t mind, amigo. It’d be easier for you to keep an eye on me if you’re close by.” Octane then realized  _ why _ they might have been making sure. After all, nobody knew what they looked like under the mask. Everything about their physical appearance was a mystery. Nobody knew if they were physically a man or a woman, what color their eyes were, how long their hair was, or if they were even human. So much was unknown about them underneath that it wouldn’t have been a surprise if they were just worried about Octane learning their secrets. “There’s a lock on the bathroom door as well as the guest room door, so you can take off your mask and stuff without worry of me seeing. Promesa.” Feeling them relax ever so slightly, the male felt a little proud of himself for figuring it out on his own.

The way back to the male’s apartment was silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Once they got inside, Bloodhound gently lowered Octane to rest on the couch. As they stood and looked around, the male suddenly felt a little… tense. “I normally don’t have company, so… Sorry for the mess.”

“Nothing a trash bag and an hour of time can’t fix,” Bloodhound told him. “A clean home will help you heal.”

“Y-yeah… I’ll work on that soon.”

“Is the sedative starting to wear off?”

Nodding, the male tilted his head back along the couch. “I don’t like feeling slow. But after everything today and no adrenaline right now? I could probably sleep for at  _ least _ three hours.”

There was a slight pause. “How long do you  _ normally _ sleep?”

“Hm? An hour. All I really need.”

Octane heard them scoff before he was suddenly laying across the couch. “ _ Rest _ ,” they informed him. “Get  _ more _ than an hour. Please. Sleep helps the healing process as well.” Before the male could argue, they were suddenly pulling off his goggles and mask both. Blinking his hazel eyes rapidly at the sudden explosion of color that  _ wasn’t _ green, Octane looked up at them in surprise. They seemed to pause as well, but it was short lived as they then pulled off his head piece, revealing his short brown and green hair, an absolute  _ mess _ that could definitely stand to be washed. Thinking on it, when  _ had _ Octane last washed his hair properly? “There we are. I will draw a bath for you when you wake up. For now, sleep and regain your strength. Allfather, bless you.”

“W-wait!” the male grabbed their arm before suddenly letting go, blushing faintly. “Um… I-I know it’s, ah… tonto… but… could you grab my conejo de peluche? From my bedroom?”

As if a little hesitant, possibly due to a little bit of confusion as to what Octane tried to say, the male muttered to himself, “What’s the word in English again…?” He then remembered it and stammered out, “Stuffed rabbit. It, uh… has a mask and goggles on, like I do. Rosado in color.” He watched as they nodded and stood, walking towards where the bedrooms were both located. He heard them open one door only to close it quickly before the right door was opened. A moment later, there was a large stuffed rabbit being offered to the male.

Wrapping his arms around it and snuggling into it with a relaxed sigh, Octane thanked Bloodhound, closing his eyes. He shivered as a blanket was soon draped over him.

“You fought well, vinur minn. Rest now, and soon, we will fight together once more,” the hunter told him softly.


	3. Chapter 3

Bloodhound had spent the better part of  the next  two hours picking up  trash  in the living room  while Octane slept . It wasn't that it was super filthy, but rather, it was cluttered with energy drink cans, plastic water bottles, and discarded vials of empty stims. The latter of all the items worried the tracker a bit. It made sense as to why the adrenaline junkie stimmed out on the battlefield. They could even understand the occasional one he would use to do incredible stunts, both in and out of the Games. But at home…?

They tried not to think about it.

For all they knew, those were all just the ones he took home from his adventures, not necessarily from recreational use.

The living room was soon cleaned up,  not a single piece of discarded trash left out to the naked eye, leaving a pleasant surprise for Octane when he awoke. Whenever that would be. Bloodhound had been certain, given his earlier statement of how long he normally slept, that he would have already been stirring awake by now. However, that wasn't the case. He was completely passed out  on the couch, snuggled up into the large plush rabbit that was against his chest, snoring quietly, body completely relaxed  and nuzzled up into the blanket that covered him.

It was honestly the most still that the tracker had ever seen him.

Carefully and quietly tying up the trash bag that they had filled, Bloodhound gingerly placed the bag aside and nodded to themself approvingly. Yes, they were the guest in this situation, but the apartment had been a mess, and they couldn't expect Octane to clean when he was missing a leg and supposed to be resting. It hadn't been any trouble, anyways. As they decided to check the kitchen to see if it needed cleaning, they were surprised to find that it was practically pristine, if not just a tad dusty.  Not a single sign that it was used for actually preparing meals. There even wasn't a single dish in the sink to be washed, plate, silverware, or cooking ware.

Did the junkie only eat junk food, pizza, and energy drinks?

When they opened the fridge, the tracker stared unblinkingly inside.

Energy drinks. As far as the eye could see. Not even a hint of food inside.

They then checked the cupboards.

Nothing.

Just… more energy drinks, tucked away in their bundle boxes, waiting to be refrigerated and drank.

Oh, this would not do.

Huffing to themself as they closed the cupboard, they glanced around for anything that could be turned into a shopping list.  They would have normally just tried to remember everything they would need, but given how  _ much _ was needed, this was most certainly a special occasion. Nothing caught their eye for a moment before they saw a little pad of sticky notes with a cheap pen beside it.

Coming closer, they noticed that there were a few… well, they could only be described as doodles, and even that felt a tad generous. Bloodhound had no idea what they were looking at, no matter how long they tried to stare and find an answer.  If they had to take a guess, it was likely of the junkie himself and maybe some rabbits?  Shaking their head, they discarded the doodle mess before taking the pen and writing down several things in scrawled, tiny writing. Most would have complained that it was too small to be read. But to them, it was perfectly legible and easy  to read.

They would get groceries to make a  _ proper _ dinner for Octane. Not junk food. Not pizza. And mostly definitely not any energy drinks.

They would count every single one and monitor his consumption because that was just not  _ healthy _ by  _ any _ means. Same with the stims, come to think of it.

Wait, were they taking it too far with being his caretaker? They wondered. After all, they would only be taking care of the male for a short while, a week or two at most. Was it even their place to monitor his intake? After all, he was perfectly fine at the moment…

At the moment.

Shaking their head, Bloodhound made themself leave the apartment, carefully walking the long, familiar path to the market.  The market wasn't far from the apartments, and though the hunter seldom ever went to it due to hunting their own food more often than not, they knew the ins and outs of the place.

They would simply… keep an eye on  the grotesque amounts of intake that Octane would surely indulge in. And maybe comment on it. But nothing more. What  the adrenaline junkie  did was his own business. Regardless of anyone's feelings on the matter, much less the hunter's own.

But it didn't stop the nagging worry that decided to gnaw at the back of their mind.

No matter.

Getting groceries would prove beneficial as a distraction from such thoughts.

They hoped.

For now, they need only think about what they wanted to make for the both of them to eat for dinner. And they had more than a few ideas.

By the time that they got back from the market, numerous bags held along their arms and gripped tight in their hands, Octane seemed to be waking up, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes when they walked inside through the door. He looked rested though groggy, eyes squinting and blinking slowly as he tried to process his surroundings, his already messy hair sticking up every which way now.

“Ah. Good. You are awake,” Bloodhound mused, toeing the door closed behind them. “How was your rest?”

“Bueno. Soñé con un conejo haciendo parkour. Fue asombroso.” He paused a moment before groaning. “Parkour rabbit dreams. Awesome. English not… working.” That earned him an amused snort, though that wasn’t what grabbed his attention. “Woah. You picked up food?”

“Ingredients to  _ make _ food,” corrected Bloodhound as they slid inside the kitchen, setting the bags down with care. “I will cook for you.”

“You don’t-.”

“I do. All you have in here is  _ energy drinks _ .”

Opening his mouth to retort, Octane paused before closing his mouth, huffing through his nose a little. “I make enough to just order food.”

“That isn’t healthy.”

“But it’s faster! It’s in the name! Fast! Food!”

“Eat enough of it and it will lead to a fast  _ death _ . A heart attack isn’t the way you would want to go, correct? Too… boring?” Bloodhound couldn’t help but find his pouting face to be adorable. He would find that their cooking was far better, anyways. “I will be making you a meal of my homeworld. It may peak your curiosity.” They didn’t hear him get up from the couch until he started to hop on his one leg over to the kitchen. He lifted himself up onto the kitchen counter and tilted his head to the side as he looked at the ingredients as they were laid out beside him.

“What is it?”

Smiling under their mask, the tracker replied simply, “Goliath steak.”

“What’s all this for then if it’s just for carne?”

“Seasoning. As well as ingredients for Leviathan kebabs and hummingbird cake.”

Octane’s eyes went wide. “You’re going to cook a hummingbird into a cake?!”

“It’s just the name of the recipe,” assured Bloodhound with a chuckle. “It is more accurate to describe it as… a banana with pineapple spice cake with cream cheese frosting.” They glanced at the male. “I can assure you that you will enjoy it.”


	4. Chapter 4

Octane laid shirtless in his bed that night, arms behind his neck as he stared up at the ceiling. Bloodhound had made what was easily the coolest and best dinner that the male had ever had in all of his life, and it left his head spinning for various reasons. For one, they were surprisingly good at cooking. Not that anyone could really doubt their skills given how they had been alone for such a long time, or at least that was what everyone assumed, but the level in which they could cook could easily overshadow those snobby chefs that his parents had growing up. Not only that, but they were not shy with the portion sizes, which, in turn, proved good because Octane could honestly really put it all away with absolute ease. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had a home cooked meal in years? Who was to say.

But the other thing that had gotten his mind all thrown through a loop was that… well…

He actually had gotten to see the bottom half of their face.

Obviously they had to remove their mask to eat, and the sight had left the male breathless. What little he could see had been pale and littered in scars and raises of veins in their flesh. Whatever could have caused such markings, he hadn’t the slightest idea, but something told him that it had been something from long ago…

What little Octane had seen had made his heart hammer hard the rest of their dinner.

Now that he was alone with Bloodhound resting in the next room over, he shifted, pulling one arm from behind his head to rest over his eyes. He needed to stop with his obsession with them. It wasn't fair to anyone, much less himself.

But all he could think about was their gentle touch, their kind nature… The world could be falling apart around them and they would carry on, believing in their gods and taking on the carnage by storm. Where most would break and falter, they pressed forward and demanded a sacrifice. Yet, if they saw another unable to handle the crushing weight of it all, they would turn back and aide them to the end. They would never leave a friend behind, no matter how dire the situation.

That truth made Octane's heart ache.

He wasn't as selfless as they were.

Feeling restless, the male sat up. He needed to get his mind off of them somehow. Maybe he could try to prep himself for the upcoming tournament he told them about? Wait, that would be too loud. They wouldn't get any rest from all the noise.

Welp.

He would likely do that during the daytime the next couple of days.

Thinking about it, he bit his lip. Maybe…

Phone in hand, he hesitated. Lifeline likely still had him blocked, but…

_ Che? You up? _

Octane waited with baited breath. It didn't pop up with the blocked message this time. Hope swelled in his chest, smothered harshly by anxiety.

_ Is dat really whatcha gon' say after all this time? _

She had unblocked him. That was a start!

_ You're up at least. _ He paused and glanced at the time.  _ Another long shift or? _

_ Just laid down for da night. _

_ Oh. _

_ Ya want to say sometin? _

This wasn't worth bothering her over. He could just brush it off as wanting to check in on her considering how intense the Game had been.

_ No. It's nothing anyways. _

_ Silva. We've known eachoter too long for ya to be beatin round the bush. What's on ya mind? _

She always knew just how to read the male, whether he liked it or not. Sighing to himself, he seemed to hesitate. It was… weird second guessing himself. He always ran into things head first and didn't let himself think of what the consequences could possibly be. But this was something serious. And he couldn't dive in like he wanted to. If it was just himself, it would have been easy. But given that love required two to tango...

_ Have you ever had to mend a broken heart? _

_ Is dat some kind of bad pickup line? _

Octane blinked before scoffing. Ah, right. That… that definitely could have been a bad pickup line. Shaking his head, he replied.

_ No, it's a serious question. _

_ If ya sure. I have. Not a pretty sight. Ya heart can collapse if da strings are strained too much. _

Octane felt his heart sink before he started to cough a bit. Something had been tickling at the back of his throat, unrelenting until it finally stopped. Blood tinted his fingers before he noticed a single, pink petal on his chest. Holding it up and blinking, he couldn't help but wonder how it got there… Surely he didn't just… cough it up…

_ Ever had someone cough up petals? _

_ Ya need to stop reading dose bad stories online. It ain't a real thing. _

Taking a quick picture and sending it to her, the male huffed.

_ Then how did this get here? There's no way I picked it up in the Game today! And it just showed up! _

There wasn't an answer for a few minutes. Octane was about to test to see if she had blocked him again when she had sent him a link to something.

_ If it is real, and it ain't, then ya have a problem, Silva. _

_ What? What kind of problem? _

_ Read it. _

Doing as he was told, the junkie glanced over the webpage and quickly found himself sick. Hanahaki disease. It resulted from unrequited love… and it had two options to be cured. Either his love needed to be returned…

Or he had to get the plant in his lungs removed and risk losing everything when it came to Bloodhound.

He wasn't willing to undergo surgery and lose his feelings towards them. He couldn't. He… he genuinely liked them quite a bit, hell, he  _ loved _ them. And even if they would only ever be friends… he didn't want to lose any of that.

_...I'm going to die. _

_ It's not real, Oc. Ya don't have anyone ya feeling for. Or was that a lie ya told in the interview? _

_ There is… someone. _

_ Who? _

_ Uh uh. No way. Can't tell you. _

_ Well I can't help ya if ya don't work with me. _

_ And I can't tell you because you won't be happy about it. _

_ It's another Legend, isn't it? _

Cursing under his breath, Octane tossed his phone away from himself. He didn't want to argue with her. She would wrangle the answer from him eventually, but he was going to get too worked up over it if he wasn't careful. And she knew just how to pick and prod at his head until he broke.

The pros and cons of growing up together.

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for the inevitable, Octane grabbed his phone and typed only one thing before turning off his phone for the night. Rolling over in his bed and pulling his plush rabbit close, he hid his burning cheeks against the soft toy. He didn't need her blowing his phone up all night when he suddenly felt absolutely exhausted.

_ Bloodhound _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was I planning initially to go with the route of Hanahaki Disease?  
> No.  
> Am I gonna go with it anyways?  
> Duh.


	5. Chapter 5

Bloodhound was resting against the wall, their bed pressed up against it in the corner of the guest bedroom, their head bowed forward as they rested their elbows on their knees. Artur, their trusted raven companion, was sitting in front of them between their feet, tilting his head to and fro with twitching wings.

"What should I do?" the hunter whispered under his breath. Whether they were speaking to themself or to their avian companion, it was hard to say. "Is what I feel for him genuine? Or is it just… me not having had such thoughts about anyone like that before and he was the first person I saw when it all started? My heart aches when he hurts, my mind soars when he runs in circles out of excitement… My stomach does flips whenever I see him around. I almost couldn't eat knowing he was watching me, Artur…" They ran their bare hands through their long, dirty blond hair and sighed.

The better part of their night had been spent with them just lost in their own mind and heart, questioning everything and nothing all at once. "Nobody has seen my face in all these years and yet to eat, I had to allow him that small part of me. I… I don't know if I liked the attention or if it made me on edge, all things considered. Nobody knows what I truly look like underneath it all, and now, he has had a glimpse. Did he like it? Did he hate it? Or perhaps, did he just simply make a note of it for himself, a secret he need hold, only privy to him…?"

Artur cawed softly and hopped closer to them, nuzzling into their calf affectionately, comfortingly. He wanted to help, but woes of the heart were not along his line of expertise. Though he had no problem in trying his best to aid his friend!

The hunter was quiet for a few moments, mulling through their thoughts before sighing quietly under their breath. They needed fresh air. "You are right,” they whispered softly. “I am overthinking this. Come." They started to stand, holding out their arm to the bird. Once he was on their arm, talons coiling around the exposed flesh, Bloodhound stood, walking over to the door and pausing there, ear pressed to the metal. Octane had a particular footstep to his movements that, at the moment, they couldn't hear.

It was safe to slip out.

The door slid open quietly and Bloodhound stepped out, silently leaving the apartment and sticking to the shadows of the hallway, making their way to the courtyard entrance. Artur moved from their arm to their shoulder as they walked. Once outside, the raven took off, leaving the hunter alone with their thoughts for the time being.

Nobody knew them outside of their armor and mask. They would be safe.

Long hair lifting gingerly in the breeze, leaving the thin braids where they lay, Bloodhound found a safe spot to go over their thoughts more, icy blue eyes gazing up longingly at the moon. Did they look like a beast under that gentle light with all their scars and raised veins? Or did they instead look like a pitiable victim from a war long since finished? Did Octane see them as ferocious still now that he had a glimpse of their flesh? Or did he see their old wounds and felt a sort of pity?

They prayed to the Allfather for a clear mind in which to think.

"How did a civilian like you get into our lodgings?"

Thoughts forgotten and tensing considerably, Bloodhound lowered their gaze from the everlasting dark sky down to a few feet away from them. Standing there, watching them, was Revenant, lithe, spindly hand resting on his jutting hip, waiting for an answer from them.

Fearful of any others that may be around to hear their voice and hoping beyond hope that he had some knowledge to sign language, the tracker hurried to answer.  _ I am a Legend _ .

"You don't look like any Legend I've ever seen," the synthetic nightmare scoffed, golden orbs rolling from left to right. At least he did know what they were signing at him.

_ Think carefully. Who is always hidden? _

Revenant watched them for a moment. As if deciding to go with the possibility rather than decline their claim outright, he hummed, "Tell me something only they and I know then."

_ Octane is… my affection _ .

The robot burst into laughter then. "Why, it  _ is _ you," he chuckled, the sound a low rumble vibrating through his vocal cords. "Why are you out here?"

_ I needed the fresh air _ .

Coming to sit beside them, overly comfortable in their presence, the male hummed. "The caretaker life already making you sloppy?"

Bloodhound shook their head.  _ Nothing like that. Just… contemplating things. _

"Have you made any kind of move?"

_ No _ .

"Of course not. You skinbags all think alike. Take it slow, make sure of their feelings before allowing your own to show through, yada yada. Really sickening given your short life spans. Especially when all there is at the end is  _ death _ that could come at any point."

_ I told you _ -.

"He definitely has an interest somewhere, Bloth," Revenant growled, cutting them off. “He’s so affection starved, there’s no way.” Before they could even question how in all of Midgard and Asgard he could have possibly known that, he continued, “Dear old Mommy and Daddy are big shots who own a huge company and have no time for a child. With nannies and servants, he had company and people to raise him, but overall, he wasn’t stable.” He then scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m willing to bet that he started all his crazy stunts as a way to get their attention. And what little he got, he ran with until it went from being for  _ their _ attention to  _ any _ attention.”

Bloodhound stared at him for a moment, shock clear on their face. They then quickly shook their head.  _ How do you know this? _

“Please. I’m designed to be a killing machine. An assassin. What kind of assassin would I be if I didn’t learn everything I possibly could on my targets?”

_ Are we your targets? _

“Anyone could be a target. With you lot being the closest thing to acquaintances I have, I had to make sure I knew everything I could. Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me. Especially this one.” He gestured casually to their appearance.

Bloodhound relaxed a little at that, nodding. They turned their head as they felt a tickle at the back of their throat, coughing quietly, the noise muffled. Wiping their hand on their shirt, they signed,  _ Thank you. My appearance should not be a factor in how the others perceive me. _

“As it shouldn’t,” hummed Revenant. He stood. “Remember, you have to come back to the Games in a couple of days. Make sure that Silva is able to move around on his own for a bit by then?”

_ He will be able to. I'll just make sure to bottle water for him and make him meals to reheat _ .

"Good. The faster he heals up, the faster I can kill him myself again." The synth chuckled lowly and started to walk away. When he heard them coughing again, he hummed out, "Get that checked out before the Games too. Don't want you down and out as well."

"Mm…" they hummed out. Raising their voice just enough for him to hear, they managed out, "I will."

The purple petals that they had coughed up, stained red with blood, were lifted and carried away on the current of the breeze.

How much longer did they have, they wondered.


	6. Chapter 6

The way Bloodhound swayed their hips side to side would no doubt drive Octane crazy.

The male was trying to focus on his game, he had been for  _ hours _ , bouncing his one prosthetic leg in anxiousness. The few times he went to grab a stim or an energy drink, Artur had flown over to him from whatever perch he had been lurking on and either pecked at the junkie or straight up flew at his face until the item was out of his hold. After the fifth time he did it, Octane had given up on either option.

Of course, without a stim in his system (or rather, not having had one in almost a full twenty four hours now), Octane was starting to feel… feverish. Sweaty. Anxious. His stomach kept doing flips and it was making him feel as though he was going to throw up.

So Bloodhound doing something so innocent that was driving the male's mind into overtime wasn't helping.

"¡Uf, necesito un estímulo! ¡Me siento húmedo y lento y me duele la cabeza!” Octane exclaimed, knowing fully well that the hunter couldn't understand him. Growling as he tossed his controller aside and running his hands through his freshly cleaned hair, the male huffed and shook his head furiously. "Could you call your bird so he stops attacking me every time I grab something?"

"He is looking out for your best interest," Bloodhound hummed. "You shouldn't stim nor should you drink your energy drinks. They do not provide nutrients."

Octane huffed, narrowing his hazel eyes in annoyance. “You sound just like Che,” he grumbled under his breath, pouting a little to himself. Ajay always got onto him about his stimming habit, about how he was going to send himself into an early grave. Not that he really cared about that. At least he would go out in a really cool way, probably stimming while doing some awesome stunt somewhere. He pulled his stuffed rabbit close, having brought it out to the living room to cling to on occasion. He didn’t feel so embarrassed about it now that the hunter already knew his secret. “But they make me feel good…”

He saw the hunter pause in their swaying, tensing up a little himself. Did he say something wrong? They started to sway again, but that pause had been noticed by the adrenaline junkie.

“They are a eiturlyf. You rely on them too much.” Their voice was stern. Even. A tiny bit  _ cold _ . It sent shivers up and down Octane’s spine. They were seriously scolding the male over this? “Artur is simply ensuring that you don’t hurt yourself further. You are already injured. You needn’t stim while you are healing from the injury.”

“It’s just a bruise and a few scrapes,” the male defended quietly with a frown, looking down at his lap with a small huff. “I get hurt like that all the time. Stims don’t hurt me more than anything else I’ve done.”

There was silence for a moment. Octane didn’t like the silence. It always made him anxious when it came to other people. It almost always promised bad things, whether it was being locked up in his room, losing friends, a blooming hatred… It never was a good sign. Nervously looking up at the hunter, he saw them still swaying side to side. They were being quiet on purpose. To instill anxiety? No, that wasn’t like them. Maybe they didn’t hear him…?

“You are not aware of the damage they cause to your body,” Bloodhound finally spoke, causing the male to jump slightly. “They rot you from the inside out. Your mind decays, your body weakens in favor of a quick high. You may not feel the rot. You may not see it. But it is there. And it worsens with each and every stim. I am not here to…” They paused, as if thinking of the word. “Police your poison. Or your life. But, as your vinur og félagi, I feel that you need to know that your addictions have consequences. And those consequences affect everyone around you.”

“I know that,” Octane muttered, closing his eyes. He could barely hear himself. Che always told him as much. But what did it matter? It wasn’t like he was there for the long time. He was there for the fun time. He wasn’t meant to live a long life. He never had been. “I know that. But it’ll be worth it to die doing something awesome…” He started to cough a little, shaking his head some. Blood coated his hand in small droplets. He wiped them off on his black shorts with a soft sigh.

“I, in good conscious, cannot allow you to stim while I am watching over you,” Bloodhound told him with an eerie calm about their voice. “Whatever you decide to do after… That is certainly up to you.” They stepped away from the kitchen counter with a plate in hand, going over to the male and offering him food. “Please, eat. It will fill you.” When Octane took it, the hunter stood upright. “I find that I must step out for some time. Will you be alright without me here?”

“Si,” Octane murmured, picking at the food in front of him. He slowly started to eat, appreciating the meal even if his stomach didn’t want it at the moment. “I can hop my way around if I need to. I still gotta practice for the tournament, anyways, so I have something to do.”

Nodding, Bloodhound held out their arm for Artur to land on it. “Alright. I will be leaving Artur here with you. I will be back soon.” After scratching the raven under his beak, they allowed him to hop down onto the couch. They started to walk to the door before they started to cough. Octane didn’t hear it, but he saw them stutter in their steps, their back tensing up and convulsing ever so slightly before relaxing. Were they getting sick…? They shook their head and walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind them.

Looking at the door longingly, sadly, Octane sighed, setting his plate aside. Most of the food was still on it, untouched. “Can I have at least  _ one _ stim?” he asked the bird, turning his head to look at him. He took the cawing and spread out wings as a big fat  _ no _ . He huffed, grabbing his controller and leaning back against the couch, slumping. “Right. Fine. Whatever.”


End file.
